From the Office of the Patrician
by Mercator
Summary: Lord Vetinari knows what you've been writing about him. He is not pleased...Ch7! A sweet-tart danger stalks the streets of A-M...
1. A Public Service Message

I got a kick out of reading many of the fanfic stories here that feature Vetinari in questionable circumstances. I wondered - how might he react if he read them?   
  
(Insert usual disclaimers here: Pterry owns everything, etc.)  
  
  
A Public Service Message  
From the Office of the Patrician  
  
It has come to our attention through our agents in the Guild of Fans & Disciples that a series of rumours regarding the Patrician's private life have been spread for the titillation of the citizens of our fair city. Certain scribblers - we dare not call them scribes for fear of offending the Guild of Scribes & Notaries - have seen fit to describe in lurid detail a set of liaisons that the Patrician wishes to reassure the public never, in fact, happened.   
  
We shall not repeat the content of the rumours nor name the unfortunates who appear as participants. While we realise that the Patrician may be of some interest to the public, some of the other slandered persons are private citizens who should be granted their libertas privi accordingly.  
  
His Lordship strongly urges the aforementioned scribblers to cease and desist all malicious gossip. In case they do not, he has given the head torturer anatomically precise instructions on how to greet any guests invited to the Palace for a chat on the subject. Some invitations, we might add, are already in the mail.  
  
Unfortunately, some damage has already been done. To put the public's moral fears at rest, we would like to clear up a recurring issue. That is, the reason the Patrician has never married.   
  
Mr. Slant of the Guild of Lawyers has suggested that we first note the absolutely false and in no way applicable characteristics of His Lordship's bachelorhood. The Patrician is in no way, nor was he ever the following: Promiscuous with any creature or species of whatever gender, living, dead or undead (including but not limited to humans, dwarfs, elves, trolls, zombies, vampires, werewolves, ghouls, etc.); monogamously attached to any of the above; or in any physical relationship with household items, including demon-powered carpet cleaners. May we also add that His Lordship has no children. Any reports to the contrary may result in painfully slow legal action or an alternative action that is merely painful (and slow).  
  
And now to clear up the central question of why the Patrician has never married. The answer is simple. He has never married because he is the ruler of Ankh-Morpork.  
  
The Patrician administers a city of a million, its citizens of every species and complexion, its single university encompassing one of the disc's largest concentrations of magic. Creatures from other dimensions have several times attempted to tear apart the fabric of reality, the dead haven't always stayed dead (even if they would like to), and other assorted ripples in space and time seem to find a comfortable home here. His Lordship was even reportedly turned into a lizard in an unfortunate incident upon which we will not elaborate. Add the normal context of municipal politics and international relations and it is soon clear that leading Ankh-Morpork is as easy as wearing a greased pig on a hot day.  
  
A young wizard at Unseen University has proposed that there are other worlds in which, theoretically, a metropolis the size of our beloved city contains only one politically relevant species, functions in more or less linear time in a set number of dimensions and - most significant of all -- has no magic. Perhaps the Patrician of said metropolis would have the time and inclination to marry. He would certainly not require the eternal vigilance His Lordship must have to keep Ankh-Morpork out of the jaws of either: 1) civic chaos, or 2) creatures of an occult or tentacular nature.  
  
What of love? His Lordship finds it nothing more than a sticky sweet sentiment advertised in alarming quantities by the Writers & Poets Guild. Far too much about rainbows, lollipops and whiskers on kittens have also been perpetuated of late. But since the Office of the Patrician in no way influences guild business, we will leave the subject.   
  
We hope this announcement has cleared up any remaining questions. To assure that this is so, members of the Palace Guard are standing by in all major public squares to discuss any lingering concerns.  
  
L. Mercator, press secretary  
  
On order of:  
  
Havelock Vetinari (Patrician) 


	2. Reaction: Ankh Morpork Times

ANKH-MORPORK TIMES  
"The truth shall make ye' fat."  
  
  
Patrician fights scuttlebutt  
52 arrested in Sator Square  
Fans Guild retracts rumours  
  
SATOR SQUARE - The surprising revelations revealed in Patrician Havelock Vetinari's missive entitled "A Public Service Message" sparked 15 minutes of widespread speculation yesterday, ending in arrests in Sator Square.   
  
Several hundred visitors to the Sator Square Market had paused in their business to listen to the Patrician's message, which accused members of the Guild of Fans & Disciples of spreading rumors of "a set of liaisons that the Patrician wishes to reassure the public never, in fact, happened."  
  
"I tol 'em, I says, bugrit, I says them's my armadillos and no mistake," said Foul Ol' Ron, who witnessed the midday scene. He added: "Fer yer gobble spit, juggins, I wants six an' two, bugrem."   
  
The presence of more than 200 members of the Palace Guard assured the unusually swift end to the outburst of exclamations, rude comments and impromptu humor from the crowd. The 52 arrested were called "ringleaders" of the merriment, said Palace Guard Capt. Accordion Squibble, who declined to comment on what would happen to the prisoners.   
  
A spokesman for the Guild of Fans & Disciples urged the public to [continued on p. 3] 


	3. Reaction: Citizens speak out

What do you think?  
Citizens speak out on the Patrician and his message  
  
"I can assure everyone that His Lordship is a model of moral integrity. He's surrounded by an army of clerks of both sexes over whom he has absolute power day and night within the walls of the Palace. He's never taken advantage of the situation. Not once. And it's not like we haven't tried..."  
-- Rufus Drumknott, personal secretary to the Patrician  
  
"It has always been a personal failure and indeed, one of my guild as a whole, that the world's most eligible bachelor has not visited us at least once. Just think of the advantages if one of our ladies of negotiable affection could say 'Patrician Recommended' in her marketing literature."  
-- Mrs. Rosemary Palm, head of the Guild of Seamstresses  
  
"The Patrician should make announcements like that more often. I sold at least 200 sausages today, though I must say, I won't comment on what people were doin' with 'em."  
-- C.M.O.T. Smith (name changed upon request), tradesman  
  
"I'll get you bastards for that back-fence gossip. I know who you are. I know where you live. You've got 24 hours to get out of my city. No joke. Do I look like a man who can take a joke?"  
--- His Grace Sir Samuel Vimes, Duke of Ankh and Watch Commander, who asked us to add that he was squinting in a very threatening way.   
  
"My sister's friend has a cousin whose daughter's son works as a coal scuttler in the palace. And he said he sometimes hears these awful noises at night coming from the Patrician's bedroom. Per'aps it's not very ladylike of me to tell tales, but my sister's friend's cousin's daughter's son said that maybe the Patrician sends out for a prisoner to his room nights and has all sorts of strange mechanical devices in there and then he...[interview interrupted by Palace Guard]  
-- Mrs. Winslow, housekeeper at Unseen University  
  
"To really understand women, you have to walk a mile in their shoes. My boots belonged to my gran. The Patrician can borrow 'em if he buys me a new pair. "   
-- A corporal of the City Watch who declined to give his name.  
  
"Vetinari's a friggin' prick. Yez got a problem with that, buddy?"  
-- Wee Mad Arthur, rat catcher, in the presence of several suddenly friendly palace guards.  
  
"For a good time, call at the Palace. Ask for Havie."  
-- Graffiti on the widdershins wall of the Saturnalia Casino. [Note: At press time, the Palace Guard reported that more than 70 people had asked for "Havie" at the Palace gates. They were reportedly escorted into the Palace and were unavailable for comment due to participation in a free educational course on arachnids.] 


	4. Patrician visits Klatchian sites

Thanks for all the great reviews so far! I'm continuing the newspaper format, as you'll see below... Stay tuned for stuff from Carrot et al. directly related to the public service message. For now I wanted to write a bit about one of the Patrician's foreign diplomatic visits.  
------------------------  
  
  
Patrician visits Klatchian sites, virgins  
"They don't make'm like that back home," He says  
  
AL KHALI-In a diplomatic visit to mark the anniversary of Ankh-Morpork's "victory" over the Klatchian forces in the matter of the island of Leshp, Lord Vetinari toured the country's greatest sites, including Al Khali's ancient aqueducts and Prince Cadram's personal harem of nubile young virgins.  
  
"They don't make'm like that back home," said a fascinated Patrician as two desert flowers in transparent gowns fed him from a bowl of grapes soaked in honeyed yoghurt. "Instead of aqueducts, Ankh-Morpork has always relied on aquifers and the river to fulfil its water and sewage needs. Perhaps it's time to learn from our Klatchian neighbors and construct an aqueduct system to solve our problem of water and waste management."  
  
Prince Cadram himself escorted the Patrician through his Al Khali palace and the famed east wing, the pleasure dome usually reserved only for the prince and his eunuchs. The bewitching virgins in white silk and gold bangles lounging or bathing in rooms scented with sandlewood and opium made a deep impression on the Patrician.  
  
"This is obviously a land with much to offer Ankh-Morpork," he said as a virgin with eyes like polished ebony massaged scented oil into his muscles. "There is no doubt that we will....ahh... strengthen our trading ties...a little lower, my dear...with Klatch, especially in the realm of...ooh, that's the spot...luxury goods such as silk, jewelry and incense."  
  
The Patrician also declared his enchantment with the 800-year-old fortress known as the "Ribbit." Once used as a military post in defence of the Al Khali harbor, the Ribbit now shelters a school for 200 of the city's orphan virgins between the ages of 14 and 17.  
  
"Such a sense of social responsibility is admirable," said Lord Vetinari. "Vulnerable young women who would otherwise be on the streets have an opportunity to learn skills that will serve them later in life."  
  
An orphan named Alana, 16, demonstrated the fruits of her education. The Patrician and his entourage were captivated as she gracefully contorted her feet behind her head while eating an ice cream cone.  
  
"That is just the kind of talent that has made Klatch a great nation," said the Patrician. 


	5. Ask the Patrician

****** Yes, an update at last! I thought it might be fun to take this rather experimental fic to another level. That is, I want to make it interactive. If you're interested, read on and mind the footnote at the end….  ***** Ask the Patrician 

An occasional feature exclusively in the _Ankh-Morpork Times_

To the General Public: 

My press secretary has informed me that the new, "modern" way for a ruler to remain at the forefront of political trends is to make himself more available to the general public. I do not deny that this is a highly suspicious theory. However, the current disinformation about my private life has made it necessary, in the opinion of Ms. Mercator, for me to take the bull by its nether regions and personally address you, the citizens, in open dialogue. Ms. Mercator – whose job, among other things, hangs by a short piece of piano wire if this experiment goes awry – spent some time in one of our democratic neighboring countries and has opinions on the necessity for transparency between politicians and the _polis_. These days, the rulers of Pseudopolis, Ephebian and other nations make an effort to show their "humanity," "character," and "values" by interacting directly with the populace. Though much of the Ankh-Morpork citizenry has none of the previously listed characteristics, I am, as all who know me will testify, a man willing to embrace new ideas. 

The original suggestion was a so-called town meeting, in which random members of the public meet with me to discuss whatever is on their minds. I found this idea impracticable because of the lack of chairs and sufficient ventilation in the Oblong Office. Thus, I decided to offer the public a chance to ask questions through the format of the _Times_. I will not answer all questions. However, my press secretary has urged me to address political, social, as well as personal queries. This will reveal me to be, as I've been informed, "well-rounded." I had always applied this term to people with too much bacon in their diets but apparently, I was mistaken.

These first two questions were gathered last week from random Morporkians in Sator Square. In future, queries must be sent to the Press Office.* Do not harass me or the _Times_ if your question is not answered or not answered quickly enough. I'm a busy man.

Havelock Vetinari

(Patrician)

**Your Lordship,**

**Boxers or briefs?**

**-- Just Curious**__

---------Dear Mr. or Ms. Curious,

            I'm sure it will come as no surprise when I tell you that your question is as intelligent as a bit of moss. However, I have decided to oblige you. As Patrician of Ankh-Morpork, I demand comfort, support and freedom of movement in an undergarment. It does no good to chafe during long official dinners, or to find oneself restricted, so to speak, if it is suddenly necessary to put down a rebellion or avoid an assassination attempt. That is why I prefer simple briefs of light, stretchable cotton. For more information, I suggest you refer to the illustrated pamphlet of the Guild of Pajamas, Lingerie and Undergarments entitled "Panties and You." Scintillating reading, I assure you. 

**Your Lordship,**

**            The sales tax is too high. What'll you do to ease the burden of the common businessman?**

**            ---- An Honest Tradesman**

---------Dear Honest,

            You have two choices. Either pay the very reasonable four percent sales tax by passing the burden onto the consumer, or start a class war, in which the small tradesmen band together with pitchforks, dull knives and flaming bits of wood, rush over the bridges to Ankh and demand that the nobles and larger guilds pay their income taxes in full. The downside to the class war is the inevitable disruption of business; it is hard to sell sausages with a pitchfork in one hand. 

--------------------

*  If you have a question for the Patrician, please send it to Ms. Mercator by Clacks (Fanfic review system), or Royal Mail (msmercator@yahoo.com) Questions should be in the above format and may be on all topics, though the Office of the Patrician and the _Times_ reminds questioners that inappropriate topics may not be answered (but then again, they might). All inquiring minds will remain anonymous. After selection and compilation, the questions will be forwarded to his Lordship, who will answer them at his leisure. He's especially looking forward to the inevitable question about Pixie Stix.


	6. The Answers of His Lordship

The _Ankh-Morpork Times_ presents…

The first full edition of  **Ask the Patrician**. 

(The editors of the _The Times_, in cooperation with the palace Press Office, thanks the public for a series of enlightening, interesting, and at times, puzzling questions. We also thank his Lordship for taking the time out of his busy schedule to participate.)

--------------------------

**Dear Patrician,**

**What kind of bread do you prefer? I for one favor honey-wheat, cornbread, and various dinner roll mixes. But what is your favorite? **

** --Sitting by a Breadmaker**

Dear Sitting,

Ah, bread. Most basic of edible substances. When once our ancient forefathers roamed about with crude arrows shooting woolly mammoths, high school wrestlers and other dumb animals for food, now we have the benefits of the domesticated grains. I once contributed a recipe for bread and water to a cookbook written by a Lancre Witch. It has proved so popular that I've been asked to do a Palace Cookbook. If I ever lift my pen for such an endeavor, there will certainly be a wide range of bread recipes, including one for my very favorite: pumpernickel. It is a Bad Ass bread, which I used to have imported until the Palace baker and a few guards convinced the holder of the recipe to divulge his secret. 

**Your Lordship,**

**If running the city is so much trouble that you can't form relationships, how do you find the time to look after Wuffles?(Not that I'm implying in any way that either your earlier comments were untrue, or your care of the dog is less than exemplary. Really. Please don't hurt me).**

**                        ---Diabhid**

Dear Diabhid,

Of course I won't hurt you. Heavens no. It is truly distressing how people seem to think that I am in any way a violent man. I am the very opposite of violent. If I was a violent man, I might take offence at your implication that running the city is somehow….yes, the quaint word you used was "trouble." Instead of considering that Citizen Diabhid merely worded his question with rather less forethought than he should have, perhaps a truly violent man would have simply dispatched the guards to show what trouble in Ankh-Morpork is _really_ like.     

However, I am a man of peace and will thus proceed to the root of your question. It is true that a dog requires some amount of attention. With his unfortunate skin disease and pesky bladder problem, Wuffles is perhaps higher maintenance than most. It is to my great shame that I must leave a good deal of his care to others. Yet his basket has a permanent place in the Oblong Office and I walk him in the garden once a day. Wuffles has the advantage that one can speak to him and receive in return the understanding thump of a tail or intelligent bark. Which is more than one can expect from most humans.

**Your Lordship,**

Regarding Mr. Drumknott's comments, I'd like to say that you can take advantage of me anytime. I can assure you this will not be an inconvenience… Ahem. As to my question: Who or what the hell is Pixie Stix? And are you going to see Lady Margolotta again anytime soon? Am I being too damn nosy? Thank you for your time, sir. 

**-----Miss Merrymoll**

**P.S. You really can take advantage of me, you know... Please?**

Dear Miss Merrymoll,

Thank you for the advantage taking offer. You are obviously a Seamstress Guild member and I must admit that I've been having some problems lately with my robes of office. Chafing, hems fraying, buttons falling off and so forth. I would certainly take advantage of your offer if it wasn't for one small problem…

…You are obviously a hopelessly overexcited, disorganized young lady. The instructions were to ask one question of me at a time. Someone who can not follow simple directions can not be expected to properly sew the hem of a robe. Quite disappointing. I will, however, answer your questions in a rational, organized way as an example for your future reference. Observe.

1) Since I have received several inquiries regarding Pixie Stix, they will be dealt with together at a later time. 

2) It is quite interesting to hear how the public circulates certain rumours about Lady Margolotta. I can assure you that I have not heard from her in some decades nor do I expect to. She had certain tastes that had nothing whatsoever to do with vampirism and everything to do with a desperate attempt to regain a youth that passed a couple hundred years ago. Quite sad, really. If I saw her again, I'd offer her a Pixie Stix. 

3) Yes. 

**Milord The Honourable Havelock Vetinari, **

**What is your position on the Guild of Actors? A notably rowdy and anti-authoritarian bunch, naturally their satires of your governing techniques must give you some trouble? How do you deal with people who are really only a quick makeup job away from mimes?**

**                        --Sam**

Dear Sam,

I am put in mind of a comment once made in my presence by one of the Palace staff. I believe it went thus: "I don't hold with the theatre. All of that sex and violence. I get enough of that at home. Well, except for the sex."

I couldn't agree more. The Guild of Actors tends to promote a questionable standard of morality. There is a morbid number of stabbings, poisonings, suffocations, garottings, beheadings, disembowlments and bad puns, all of which lead, I suspect, to a desensitization of the audience to violence. 

This is a disservice to the public. It has forced me to take a very particular position on individual members of the Guild of Actors, that is, three steps behind and one step to the left. As I am normally right-handed, this position allows freer movement of my stick if it should be necessary to remind said actor of the real consequences of violence. Or, for that matter, political satire.

*** _The last letter for today, from a citizen known only as "Twist," forced me to respond in a slightly different format than the others. I trust the readership of _The Times_ will forgive the breach of continuity. – LV, P_

**Ola Havvie!**

I must pause here to give my reaction upon first reading this greeting. I believe everyone is aware that I have eyebrows. The left one is raised when I am amused, the right one when I am displeased, and both together only during extreme emergencies. I leave the readers to guess which reaction I had to the term "Havvie."

**So glad you've decided to answer some pressing questions. *cue evil laugh*  I do know a lot about you from previous ventures, however, I would like to ask you a question that I believe is vital to the survival of Ankh-Morpork. Brace yourself. **

I prefer others to do that for me. I normally dispense with the usual metal brace in exchange for a series of leather straps secured with iron buckles.

**What was you favorite child activity? Now, remember that I do know you and I do hold the stash of Pixie Stix, so I want no answer like "I liked staring at people so I could figure out how to manipulate them." I know you better. *evil grin* **

Ahem. Miss Twist, I must clear the record and state publicly that you do not, in fact, know me. Our business has always been conducted with the strict impersonality necessary to trafficking in sugary substances. If anything, you know Drumknott quite a lot better. I've had to discipline him twice for skimming off the Pixie Stix supply. The poor man is addicted. He licked the tiny paper ends and pinched them closed in hopes I wouldn't notice. 

To your question:  It has been suggested in some circles that my favourite child activity involves the importation from a tropical island of tanned, pre-pubescent boys with liquid brown eyes and no sense of right and wrong for Special Service at the palace. This is, of course, ridiculous. I've had boys brought in who were as old as 16.

If you meant child_hood_ activity: I collected stamps.

Sincerely,

Lord Vetinari 

(Patrician)

p.s. Your remaining Pixie Stix question will be answered in a special Pixie Stix edition of Ask the Patrician 

p.s.s. FROM MS. MERCATOR: We at the Press Office beg the readers' forgiveness for the above answer from his Lordship to Citizen Twist. There are, of course, no boys imported to the palace; his Lordship was simply demonstrating his idiosyncratic sense of humour. He has been under a great deal of pressure lately. Even when we asked the other day, he would not allow us to loosen his leather straps. 


	7. The Powdered Peril

From the Press Office: We would like to apologize for the delay in updating this most important public service. We thank you the public for your fascinating questions, and ask you kindly not to send any more. His lordship would like to ponder the existing questions. More answers will follow.

But first, please carefully read the following pamphlet written in conjunction with the Office of Health and Human, Alternative-Species and Undead Services. It is a matter of grave importance to the public.

The Powdered Peril 

Danger lurks even in the brightest corners of our fair metropolis.

It exists in the school yards, where men in slouched hats and baggy overcoats crook a finger at impressionable youngsters and pass them a pack of the powdery menace in exchange for  their milk money.

It exists on the street corners, where young women better off earning their living by other means pull up their skirts to reveal, in their garters, a collection of paper tubes containing a hazardous substance that promises a tart and sugary rush. 

It exists in the offices, factories and yes, even in the halls of the powerful, where gentlemen of means slip out of important meetings in order to partake of their insidious habit in the privacy of the privy.

We are referring, of course, to the Powdered Peril.

Pixie Stix.

First, a disclaimer. There is, in fact, no evidence that any actual pixies are involved in the production, distribution or consumption of Pixie Stix. Loopy Glitterknees (Mrs.), head of the Pixie Anti-Defamation League of Ankh-Morpork, has lodged several complaints against the use of the label "pixie" in relation to this most damaging of narcotics. She has also informed us that a Pixie stick in pixie parlance is vaguely pornographic. While we acknowledge the need for sensitivity in word selection, we have for the sake of clarity chosen to use the street name of the drug. No disrespect is meant to anyone in Ankh-Morpork's valuable pixie community. Indeed, our supply of magic sparkles and delightful little paintings featuring fireflies and buttercups would be seriously endangered if not for our proud, local pixies.

In the last year alone, the street price of this mixture of sugar, bicarbonate of soda and tartaric acid wrapped in paper tubes has dropped by half, while the supply – smuggled in from the Golden Trapezoid of Uberwald, Borogravia, Chirm and Lancre – has tripled. The result, of course, is a massive expansion in Pixie Stix trafficking. It is an estimated AM25 million dollar industry. 

The effects of Pixie Stix consumption are still being studied. Initial test results released recently by a team at Unseen University reveal that the consumption of as few as ten consecutive stix could lead to heart palpitations, loss of balance, giddiness, giggle attacks and an alarming 25 percent increase in stupidity. These results have been born out by anecdotal evidence of chronic Pixie Stix users wandering around babbling, falling over, laughing hysterically and knocking into walls.

Experts predict that as much as 40 percent of the Ankh-Morpork population could be Pixie Stix addicts in the next twenty years if something is not done about this most perilous of powders. A political solution is being sought, but you, the citizens, must also do your part. All Pixie Stix dealers and suspected dealers should be reported to Commander Vimes of the City Watch, who has penned a personal addendum to this pamphlet (see below). 

Also, be on the look out for signs of Pixie Stix addiction: optimism, unfounded happiness, manic activity, excessive grinning or laughing, increased idiocy, powdery lips and tooth decay (due to improper consumption of the powder, which when eaten properly is placed directly on the tongue and swallowed like an oyster). If a loved one displays more than two of the above characteristics, have him or her examined by a licensed addiction therapist, who if need be will refer the unfortunate to one of several detox centers set up around the city. Be warned: the sight of a loved one in sugar withdrawal can be distressing.

If you have more questions about what you can do to help fight the Powdered Peril, please contact the Department of Health and Human, Alternative-Species and Undead Services at the Winter Palace of Ankh-Morpork (at the gates, ask for Larry).

L. Mercator, press secretary

On order of: Havelock Vetinari (patrician)

In conjunction with: Office of Health and Human, Alternative-Species and Undead Services

**Addendum from the Ankh-Morpork City Watch:**

All of you Pixie Stix users listen up! The stuff is sweet, granted. It's tart and makes you feel better about the world. Once you've had one, you have to have another. I know what that's like. I understand the devil's circle of addiction.

But that doesn't mean I'm not going to throw each and every one of your powder-addled arses into the Tanty until you see the error of your ways. You're all a danger to yourselves and to upstanding citizens who don't need to down a drug to get a kick out of life. If you think I'm joking, come on down to the Tanty and count how many cells we got with junkies in. You want to guess? Lots, that's how many! Keep that in mind the next time you tear open a paper tube, right? Roight!

Pixie Stix dealers: I am hereby announcing a zero tolerance policy toward Pixie Stix in Ankh-Morpork. You see what I'm doing right now? I'm rubbing my hands together. I'm rubbing my hands because I got a lot of intolerance built up in me the past few years what with all the danger of being labelled a speciesist, and now I get to let it all out. You'd think after being as tolerant as I've been lately that I'd of forgotten what it's like to persecute a group of people with stubborn, unrelenting violence. 

Well, you'd be wrong.

Anybody caught selling or trying to sell Pixie Stix will be judged guilty on the spot and sentenced to consume the entire supply immediately under the supervision of a watchman and a dentist. You're professionals. You know what happens when you down fifty or a hundred of those things at once. Don't make me spell it out for you. Let's just say that the dentist will have a good pair of rusty pliers on hand at all times and you'll spend the rest of your lives eating slumpie. Got it?

Commander Samuel Vimes (Sir,Duke, etc.)

Ankh-Morpork City Watch

**The Office of the Patrician would also like to wish you and yours a safe and happy Hogswatch!


End file.
